


the lightness before death

by etoilette



Series: AU-gust 2020 [5]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Injury, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilette/pseuds/etoilette
Summary: “You can’t save everybody,” Goro spat out, inexplicably furious. He slammed his hand on the porcelain sink and shoved his sword back into his sheathe. “You won’t be able to survive out here if you have that mindset.”Akira looked at him - armed to the teeth, face drawn, long hair tied up in a ponytail, he looked exactly like a protagonist of those zombie video games Ryuji had always liked, as if he walked right out of a video game and into reality. He didn’t know what Goro had done up to this point to survive, didn’t know what, if anything, Goro had to sacrifice just for the privilege of being able to take another breath.ORIn post-zombie apocalypse Tokyo, Akira and Akechi navigate the empty streets together, partners and equals and maybe-friends. Until Akira messes up. He messes up really bad.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: AU-gust 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860436
Comments: 11
Kudos: 83





	the lightness before death

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to do this zombie fic for ages now and AU-gust was the perfect time to finally get on it. Written for Day #5 of AU-gust: Post-Apocalypse AU!
> 
> The original concept was a lot closer to Dead Rising, actually, with the usage of Zombrex, etc. but I felt like that part of the worldbuilding would be too long. I'll explain in the end notes what I mean.

Goro is a lot heavier than he seems, his body a sculpture of corded muscle after a little over a year of surviving in the zombie-filled wasteland that Japan has become. Akira’s always found some solace in the deceptive strength hidden under bulky clothing and a slender frame, but now, with Goro bleeding out from an enormous bite wound in his stomach, he curses him. 

No matter how much he wants to yell at Goro for how hard he is to drag, it will never be as much as how he wants to scream at himself. His own stupidity, his own weakness, dragging down the only person in the world he has now.

“Only a little bit more to go,” Akira pants. “Just a bit further. Hold on, Goro, you can do it.”

He’s hooked Goro’s arm around his shoulder, and he has his other arm around the waist, his hand perfectly placed over the hole in Goro’s stomach. On one hand, he can keep any more of Goro’s organs from falling out, but on the other, he can feel right on his skin every rivulet of blood pulsing out of him. His own heart betraying him.

He can’t stop thinking about the shrill way Goro had screamed, the sound so foreign in its panic that for a second, Akira didn’t even realize Goro was the one making the sound. How the zombie had held him down with bold hands, sinking its sharp teeth into his side, shaking its head like a dog and sending a cascade of blood splattering all over the forest floor. 

It took Akira two seconds to kill the zombie, shooting it right between its eyes. It was two seconds too long. 

He’s never going to be late again.

“They’ll fix you up,” he continues, saying his words as loudly as he can despite his ragged and laboured breathing. He wants Goro to hear him, wants Goro to know that Akira isn’t going to let him down this time. Goro hasn’t said anything in a long time, which is so rare for him that Akira finds himself overcompensating a little now. “You’ll be safe.”

He’s long since memorized the area around Tokyo, having wandered it next to Goro for months now, but he’s never realized how far away from their usual haunts Chiyoda is. Then again, considering how Goro is the one who usually decides where they go on a daily basis, he isn’t surprised if Goro purposefully avoids the area.

“If I go back there, my father will lock me up so I don’t try to leave again,” Goro had sighed. “I can’t stand living in there, surrounded by those sheep and my father. I would rather take my chances out here.”

Goro can do it too. When Akira first met him, he’d already been around half a year into his self-imposed exile, surviving off of wild plants, hunted animals, and scavenged non-perishables. Smart, fast, and strong, with a talent for fighting, Goro was everything Akira wanted to be for a long time. A partner and equal in every way.

He still remembers the way Goro appeared in his life, a sudden blur of black and brown and red, a serrated sword (worn from use but still sharp enough) slicing off the head of the zombie formerly known as Sakamoto Ryuji. Akira is a little ashamed now of how he had screamed at the sight, almost pissing his pants, scrambling backwards because all he could think of was _oh god ryuji’s dead ohgodohgod no nonono I’m next._

He watched as the light faded from Ryuji’s bright red eyes, before Goro steps in front of him and hauls him up with one hand, dashing away with Akira in tow as more zombies start to flood out of Shujin in pursuit of food.

“He was your friend, right?” Goro said a little while later, when he watched Akira wash away the blood on his body in an empty public washroom in an attempt to prevent infection. Thank god that the plumbing still worked in some of the more metropolitan areas of the city. 

Goro was manning the sink next to Akira, cleaning up his own weapons, his gaze focused on his hands and not anywhere near Akira. “You aren’t angry that I killed him?”

Akira’s hands were trembling on his face, in the middle of washing off the dried blood caked onto there. Ryuji’s blood. He remembered how his friend had shoved him aside when they had still been trapped in the entranceway of Shujin High School, seconds away from freedom. He remembered Ryuji getting bit on the leg by Kamoshida, how he had helped Ryuji hobble outside, getting almost to the sanctuary of the subway station before Ryuji started to spasm in his hands. 

Ryuji died in his arms. 

Ryuji didn’t die to Goro’s blade.

Akira shook his head even though Goro wasn’t looking at him. “You didn’t kill him. I might as well have when I didn’t help him.”

“Hmph. Inaction doesn’t always equate action. The fact that you tried to get him help is good enough.”

“I still didn’t save him.”

“You can’t save everybody,” Goro spat out, inexplicably furious. He slammed his hand on the porcelain sink and shoved his sword back into his sheathe. “You won’t be able to survive out here if you have that mindset.”

Akira looked at him - armed to the teeth, face drawn, long hair tied up in a ponytail, he looked exactly like a protagonist of those zombie video games Ryuji had always liked, as if he walked right out of fictiin and into reality. He didn’t know what Goro had done up to this point to survive, didn’t know what, if anything, Goro had to sacrifice just for the privilege of being able to take another breath.

“You saved me,” Akira said, and he immediately wanted to slap himself silly for how inane he sounded. 

Goro didn’t say anything and he looked away. “I wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight if I saw you get mauled by a zombie right in front of me. Besides, the scent of fresh blood attracts a horde. I didn’t want to deal with that.”

Akira bit back a smile. He was already getting a good feel of who this person is.

“Thank you,” he said, managing to keep his fervour at a minimum. “Thank you. I promise I’ll return the favour some day.”

Goro let out another “hmph” and walked out of the washroom. When Akira followed him, almost slipping on the tile, Goro didn’t stop him or chase him away.

That was the start of their journey together through the remnants of Tokyo, though there were certainly many times when Akira thought Goro would up and abandon him one day for being useless dead weight, especially in the beginning when Goro had to teach him how to fight. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to track Goro down if Goro decided to leave him, but what else would he do?

They exchanged stories slowly, until Akira was able to piece together a mosaic of Akechi Goro’s life through little snippets of memories and whispered anecdotes. He knew that Goro probably had his own little collage of Kurusu Akira’s life, created through the exact same way.

He knew that Goro came from Chiyoda, where the citizens were generally vaccinated and safe, creating medicine after medicine for Shido in exchange for an ever-climbing debt that they would need to spend their entire lives paying off in the factories. Goro knew that Akira had been sent to Tokyo from Tottori on probation from juvenile delinquency (“It’s not important,” he waved off when he saw the immediate interest in Goro’s eyes), and that Akira had been bunkering down in the dilapidated Shujin High School for weeks until a careless mistake allowed a bitten student back in.

“I’m glad that I met you,” Goro said one day. He wasn’t looking at Akira at all, his knees to his chin as he gazes into the fire. 

“You were surviving just fine on your own, weren’t you?” Akira said, tossing a twig into the fire and watching it crackle. He stared into the flames until he could feel his eyes sting, and he buried his head into his arms, pushing his forehead against them. “You don’t really need me.”

He heard the crackling of twigs and then felt a soft warmth against his side. Surprised, he jerked his head up and turned. He saw the top of a head of dark brown hair, glowing gold under the illumination of the moon and the fire, but from his angle, he couldn’t see what expression was on Goro’s face.

“I think…I think I needed you more than I ever thought I did. I could survive without you just fine, of course,” and it was such a haughty comment that Akira couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “but I don’t think that I would be _living_ at all. You…I…”

He didn’t say anything for a long time. So long that Akira would have thought him asleep if he couldn’t feel the way that Goro held himself deliberately still, his breaths controlled and even in a way that would be impossible unconscious. 

Akira didn’t need to hear it, he supposed, because he feels the same way. He didn’t need to hear the gratitude echoed back to him but it would have been nice. He wanted to say something first, but he had always been the one to initiate conversation - actual conversation rather than the odd trivia and tangents Goro went on - between them. 

He smiled lightly and allowed his head to lay on top of Goro’s, who didn’t react beyond shifting so that he could be more comfortable on Akira’s shoulder.

They had their whole lives to say it. 

But of course, Akira was being stupid, _as usual._ After all that happened, all that he lost, he should have known that forever is a misconception, that life could be taken and destroyed in no time at all. Two seconds, even.

Finally, _finally,_ Akira sees it: the tall and spiked walls of the Chiyoda camp. He’s never seen a more beautiful sight, the relief so palpable that he can feel the tears start to well up in his eyes at the idea that Goro will be _safe_. It might take them a while to leave Chiyoda, and he knows that Goro would be unhappy to be back, but he doesn’t mind. 

As long as the two of them are together, he could live under even the most unfair of circumstances.

He angrily blinks away the tears, furious at his body’s natural response, and rushes forward. His legs tangle into each other, sluggish from the hard journey here, and he forces himself to slow down. He doesn’t think even Goro could survive a fall at this moment, and Akira is wary to release his hand from the wound in Goro’s side. 

Goro had been dead weight the entire journey but he suddenly lets out a hacking cough, struggling and convulsing in a way that Akira recognized from all the other bodies he had seen in the past. He couldn’t get a good grip on Goro’s arm anymore and he tightens his hold around the waist, trying to glue Goro’s body to his own if it would mean that Goro would stay standing. 

But Goro had always been stronger than him, and Akira ends up having to drop the two of them to the ground, cushioning Goro’s fall as best as he can by pulling him into an awkward embrace. Goro gives another full body shudder before falling limp, allowing Akira to hug him close without fear of his nose getting broken.

“Goro,” he says. He shakes him lightly, trying to make him open his eyes. “Hey, Goro, are you with me?”

He sees Goro’s eyelids flicker and twitch before slowly, as if with a great effort, they lifted. The usual dark russet-brown of Goro’s eyes are brighter than ever, as if covered in a sheen of unshed tears. He wants to reach out to brush them away, but he worries that if he lets go of his hold around Goro’s body, he would slip through his fingers.

“Akira,” he thinks Goro say, slow and faint in a way that Goro has never sounded like even when waking up. He slowly reaches up one gloved hand and Akira grabs it, dragging it closer to his face so that he could pretend Goro was choosing to cradle his jaw. 

Goro doesn’t say anything for a long time and Akira holds his breath, waiting for Goro to say what he wants to say. Ten seconds turn to twenty, to thirty, to forty, until Akira’s lungs burn, and he wonders if Goro’s eyes are burning as well. He hasn’t blinked in a very long time. 

It takes a second before Akira realizes what’s happening.

“No,” Akira says. “No. Nononono _nono_.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore, whether it’s coherent or not. All he knows is the weight of Goro’s body sinking into his arms, heavier than it’s ever been, and the fading light in his eyes. He tightens his grip on Goro’s hand, until he’s sure that he’s cutting off his circulation based off how pale his skin is. Against his sweaty neck, he can feel the faint barely-there puffs of air slow, the exhale long and faint, until…

He doesn’t feel him take air, doesn’t feel anything from the body in his hands, no matter how hard he presses Goro against his skin. He strokes his hair in the way Goro’s always liked it, despite his adamant denials. He shakes the shoulder roughly, in the way Goro always did in the beginning, when Akira, unused to the harsh life outside of a set safe-house, would sleep like the dead.

Like the dead...

Goro is dead.

Goro would hate it if Akira tries to run from the truth. Would wake up and kill himself again if it means that Akira would finally admit it. 

Not that he could, because Goro is dead and Akira is alone. Again. 

He doesn’t even know he’s screaming, wailing at the top of his lungs as he cradles Goro closer to his chest, as if he could bring him back through the power of his grief alone. He doesn’t realize any of this until he hears the frantic yellings of “Hey, who’s there?!”

“Sir, I think that’s a survivor!”

He looks up slowly, and sees two men emerging from the open gate of Chiyoda, assault rifles - Howa, if his eyes aren’t deceiving him - at the ready. They aren’t wearing much protective gear, as if they hadn’t been expecting to have to leave the sanctuary of the settlement, and Akira can see their open expressions. 

The younger one of the two has an openly sympathetic look in his eyes as he asks, “Young man, is that...was that your friend?”

“He’s…” Akira says, but he doesn’t know what to say, what words to use to describe his relationship with Goro. 

“C’mon,” the older one says, “let go of him. We’ll take care of him if you don’t want to, but it’s not safe to stay out here.”

“No!” Akira shakes his head and shuts his eyes. “I’m not going to leave him here.”

“We really don’t have time for this. I’m sorry but you can mourn later. Satou, help me.”

That’s the last thing Akira hears before a pair of rough hands seize him by the shoulders, and he feels a slightly more hesitant grip on his arms, trying to entangle his hands from the back of Goro’s jacket.

Akira struggles against the men as they try to separate them, his arms tightening around Goro’s when he feels them try to tug him away. 

“This is...It’s Akechi-san,” he hears the younger man murmur, his tone surprised. Akira uses a hand to cup the back of Goro’s head, trying to hide his distinctive hair colour even though he knows the damage is already done. “I can’t believe this...He survived all this time?”

“Not anymore,” grunts the other man. 

The shock of hearing that is enough that Akira loosens his hold. Not anymore? What is he talking about, when he can feel…

The men jump at the chance. One of them tugs on Akira’s shoulders so hard he’s knocked onto his ass. The other one wrenches Goro away, tossing the limp body to the ground carelessly and pointing his Howa at him, the muzzle trained right at Goro’s head.

“Shoot him,” the man holding Akira says. 

“No!” Akira bellows. He struggles, elbowing his captor furiously in the nose, knowing he hit true when he hears a muffled yelp and a curse. “Don’t hurt him! Please! He’s still alive!”

“Kid, you’re fucking delusional,” the man behind him says, his voice thick and strained. 

The young man holding the gun doesn’t look at Akira at all, even though he must have heard the entire struggle. “He’s dead and he’s going to turn if I don’t destroy the head right now.”

Would Goro turn? But that’s impossible. Goro is the most impressive and remarkable person that Akira’s met in his entire life. If anyone is able to die in this world, it’s him. If the man shoots off Goro’s head, then Goro would never be able to wake up and talk to Akira again. He would never be able to look at Akira, and give him that rare genuine smile, and say that he’s glad to have met Akira.

He leans forward and bites as hard as he can into the man’s exposed arm (amateurs, the lot of them), and the man screams. He slams his fist into Akira’s face, but the retaliation loosens his grip around Akira, allowing him to wriggle free just as he hears a frantic “Hey!”

The young man with the gun trained on Goro is backing away, the gun wavering slightly in his hands at the sight of Goro pushing himself slowly to his feet. 

“Satou, _shoot him_!” the older man behind Akira yells. 

“No, don’t!” Akira screams.

The younger man doesn’t listen to Akira, pulling on the trigger, sending a string of deafeningly loud _bang_ s into the air. Akira wants to squeeze his eyes shut instinctively, but he struggles against it, not wanting to take his eyes off Goro for even a second. 

The man missed, the bullets carving a deep groove into the ground on Goro’s right side. The man’s poor aim must have thrown him off enough that he doesn’t immediately shoot again, and the lapse of judgement costs him in life as Goro rushes forward and bowls him over, sinking his teeth into the man’s left shoulder. He screams and struggles, his legs kicking and straining as he tries to throw Goro off, but Goro slams his hands down on his arms, his grip carving into the flesh.

“Fuck,” Akira hears and he turns around to see the older man stand up unsteadily, training his Howa onto where Goro is still bent over the other soldier. 

He doesn’t think that the man could hit Goro when his arms are trembling so badly, but Akira can’t take any chances. He reaches into the holster on his thigh and grabs the familiar grip of his Tkachev. It’s an easy shot, the man barely paying attention to him, and Akira never misses. 

The man doesn’t even realize he’s dead before he hits the ground, blood leaking from a hole in his head. He looks over at Goro who is pushing himself to his feet. The soldier on the ground is no longer moving, his arm tossed casually to the side, and huge chunks of his left torso ripped apart.

Goro’s always been a picky eater, eating a few bites of anything they scrounge up before tossing it Akira’s way. He can’t help but huff out a soft laugh - Goro’s still Goro. 

The sound attracts Goro’s attention and he wheels on Akira. His eyes are cold despite the flaming red, and there is an almost foreign look of rage twisting his face, blood coating the entire bottom part of his face like a mask. 

It’s certainly not the most attractive he’s ever been, and Akira can’t help the hysterical giggle that bubbles out of him at the thought. 

The low rumble emanating from Goro becomes louder and more furious at the sound and he starts to move towards him. He isn’t too surprised at Goro’s reaction - he hates the thought of being laughed at.

“My life was yours the instant you saved me that day, all those months ago,” Akira says to Goro, smiling around the bruise on his face. “I started living again when you came into my life. It hasn’t been my own for a long time now.”

Goro’s posture is usually perfect, but now, he’s hunched over in an almost bestial way, his hands flexing as he bears his teeth in a fearsome snarl at Akira. 

Akira could move. He could shoot. There is a Howa right next to him, and a Howa not so far away, not to mention the Tkachev in his hand is still loaded. Goro’s fast, for sure, but Akira’s fast too. He might not be able to survive this unscathed, but he could survive this, if he wanted to, he thinks.

But why would he? 

He’s only ever started living when he met Goro, the colours restored to his world that fateful day Goro walked into his life. 

What would he do if he survives this encounter? 

Live out the rest of his days in Chiyoda, making vaccine after vaccine for Shido, as mindless as the zombies wandering around in the world? 

Wander the wasteland alone, like Goro once did, cold and cruel and hollow?

“My life is yours,” Akira repeats but before he can finish, Goro is upon him, so fast that Akira barely even knows what’s happening until his vision is the top of a head of dark brown hair. From his angle, he couldn’t see what expression was on Goro’s face. But somehow he knew that the warmth dripping down his neck isn’t from him alone.

Akira wonders how long it would take for him to wake up once more, and he hopes that he wakes up before Goro moves on to find the next hunting ground.

He really doesn’t want to be late again.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Ryuji was chosen to die because I figured he would be the logical one to be stuck in Shujin with Akira at the time. Also, Mamo-chan was the character who sacrificed himself for the main character in High School Of The Dead so I thought it was fitting.
> 
> \- The original conceit of zombie apocalypse AU as I planned it back in May was that Akechi is infected and uses this Zombrex drug to keep himself in check. Akira gets bitten instead and Akechi drags them back to Chiyoda, using his last drug to keep Akira in check, but he succumbs to the zombification and kills Akira right before safety. That would have been too long and when I was writing it, I realized that I didn't actually like this idea at all, so I scrapped it for this one instead.


End file.
